


Immorality

by spaceliquid



Series: Turn of a Switch [3]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: Choking, M/M, Oral Sex, Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, dubcon-ish, mentions of past dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 07:19:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2723579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceliquid/pseuds/spaceliquid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Optmus is worried about the unhealthy relationship his friend has with his own Optimus Prime. During an attempt to investigate he starts out as a witness and becomes an accomplice. </p><p>Side story for Turn of a Switch, post-finale. Can be read separately, without reading the main fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Immorality

**Author's Note:**

> For those who didn't read ToaS - a short gist of what happened:  
> Bayverse Optimus switches places with his Shattered Glass version before the events of the movies. With the help of SG Megatron he manages to get back home, but too late: DotM happens, Cybertron is destroyed and the Decepticons are all dead. SG Megatron offers Optimus and his Autobots to travel to SG world and live there; he takes SG Optimus with him in hope to find a cure for his madness.

Optimus stood in front of the door to the high security wing of the prison, eyeing the code panel. He knew that spying on his friend was a wrong thing to do, he shouldn't be here, he had no right to intrude... But he was worried. He didn't feel comfortable when Megatron was alone with that monster who wore Optimus's face; the mad Prime couldn't be trusted, what if he took advantage of Megatron's kindness and harmed him?

 _Oh, but Megatron has been fighting him for eons_ , a nasty sarcastic voice whispered in Optimus's mind. _He is certainly aware of the danger, and he can take care of himself._

Maybe so, but something in Optimus's spark raged at the thought that the insane destroyer of his world was alive; he deserved to be brought to justice, to be shot like a rabid sparkeater, so that he won't hurt anyone ever again.

 _Or perhaps you're just jealous_ , the same voice cackled. _You are jealous that Megatron goes to his brother and not to you; that he_ has _a brother, when you do not._

Optimus felt sick.

A dark scalding wave rose and fell inside him, leaving a bilious aftertaste. Biting his lips under the mask, Optimus typed down the password and entered the high security wing.

His footsteps were as soft as he could manage as he walked down the dimly lit corridor past empty cells. They didn't have any prisoners to keep there: local Autobots were all dead, as were the Decepticons from Optimus's own world – courtesy of the wing's sole occupant. His cell was in the farthest end – the center of gloom and sticky dread that filled this place.

Optimus stopped before the staircase that led to that secluded ward; he heard voices from below, but no matter how he attuned his audio sensors, he couldn't decipher what was being said. That left only one option: forcing his ventilations to run low, Optimus began his descent.

Voices were becoming louder and clearer; the Prime heard his double's booming laughter once, which caused an outburst of fury to fill his spark again. Still, he kept quiet, all questioning of his motives for sneaking like a thief forgotten. He paused at the turn the staircase made before ending and peeked from behind the corner. 

The first thing he saw was the silver mass of Megatron's armor, looking almost obscenely foreign here – the only spot of light cutting the everlasting darkness. It seemed so unbelievably bright that Optimus didn't even notice Megatron's companion at first. However, as his optics adjusted to the contrast he saw it: a figure woven of shadows, purple plating, red optics and black talons clutching at the white of Megatron's arm – _he was allowing that monster to touch him!_

Optimus's first instinct was to dash forward, to tear Megatron away from the mad Prime's claws, but at that very instant those blazing red slits shifted and focused on _him_ , successfully nailing him to the floor. His twisted reflection's face was hidden under a facemask, but Optimus could _feel_ the smirk forming on unseen lips, and the claws ran up and down Megatron's arm, stroking it.

“It appears we have a visitor,” he said, never breaking eye contact.

Megatron spun around – and the black hand moved with unexpected speed, squeezing his neck and pressing him to the bars.

This time Optimus did dash towards them, but Megatron's halting gesture stopped him.

“Wait!” The warlord's voice was calm and collected, just as his pose and the warning of a raised palm, but his blue optics narrowed in tension. And Optimus had to obey: the sight of sharp talons on his friend's throat sobered him up.

[Don't escalate this,] a comlink message apprised him, and Optimus frowned. _He_ was escalating this? He didn't come near the murderous criminal who was crystal clear about his intentions to permanently offline his brother.

[You are an idiot,] he snapped, hastily searching for an opportunity to get them both out of this situation. Starscream was absolutely right, they needed to kill this spawn of a glitch, they needed to do it long ago...

“I'd prefer you talk aloud,” the other Prime purred, fingers tightening around Megatron's throat. “It's impolite to use comlink when other people are present.”

Optimus cast a vexed glance at his friend.

“What, are you going to say you've got everything under control?” he barked, but apparently this was a wrong step: the other Prime's optics flashed with wrath.

“Under control?” he growled, talons digging into Megatron's neck cables, drawing energon. “You think you have control over me!?”

Megatron didn't call Optimus an idiot in return, but it was written on his face.

“Nobody's in control,” he uttered placidly, standing still and not trying to break the hold on his neck. “Control is a very fleeting and elusive thing.” Then he dimmed his optics and _leaned into the touch_.

Optimus's vents hitched, but he wasn't the only one to react: the other Prime's optic ridges rose in surprise – but then he chuckled, and it came out mischievous rather than sinister.

“Now, now, brother dearest, I forgot what a hungry little thing you were.” Another black hand slithered between the bars of the cell and lay on Megatron's hip. “See this, traveler?” He winked at Optimus. “I have my twin trained well, despite his foolish attempts at rebellion.”

Optimus opened his mouth, indignation boiling in his chest, but Megatron cast a sharp glance at him, irate and much more coherent that it could be expected judging by his actions.

[Don't. Escalate this,] he repeated over the comlink, “you have already caused trouble” being left unsaid. After he got ensured that Optimus wasn't going to do anything drastic, he shut his optics and relaxed a little as his twin curled his fingers, clawtips digging into the gaps of white hip armor.

“Isn't he beautiful?” the mad Prime murmured, nuzzling the side of Megatron's helm. “Looks so much like your brother, doesn't he? But your Megatron wouldn't have allowed you to do this; no, your Megatron would've rather died than given me the upper hand... which he did, by the way.” He smirked. “Are you jealous of me, traveler?”

Optimus ex-vented hard, but said nothing; his optics were fixed at how that black palm slipped between Megatron's thighs, pawing at the closed interface panel, and how Megatron shifted, parting his legs slightly. It was madness; like looking into a broken mirror that showed something that Optimus couldn't have.

And suddenly a discovery dawned upon him, making his insides clench and fuel tanks churn, threatening to purge their contents. _They did this before_ , Optimus realized, disgusted; _they fragged during the course of war, not once but many times._ Now they were playing by the rules both knew, and this was why Megatron wasn't afraid, why the mad Prime didn't try to kill him. This was a familiar situation to them... and they were dragging Optimus down to the bottom with them.

And yet he couldn't force himself to move; he continued to stare as the hand on Megatron's neck tightened its grip, hindering the flow of energon through the fuel lines, and instead of struggling Megatron let his mouth fall open, tilting his head back. Sharp talons scratched his interface panel, leaving long furrows on the smooth metal. And as Optimus watched, poisonous fog clouded his mind.

For a long time he believed the other Prime to be a monstrous manifestation of pure evil, and his brother – so like and unlike his own twin – to be the noble and even naïve hero. But this – them – this was vice; this was something lecherous, impure, unholy. The way the other Optimus growled, nuzzling the silvery helm through the bars, and then retracted his mask to lick the finials and graze them with his fangs; the way Megatron sighed, small smile dancing on his lips, blue optics darting a glance at Optimus that was almost playful. They were tangled in this web together, Optimus admitted with scornful astonishment, Megatron and the mad Prime both, and now they were ensnaring him too, infecting him with this plague of depravity, tempting him to follow their downfall.

And the worst thing was that he made a step forward.

The mad Prime chuckled, a deep and rich sound reverberating through his powerful frame. A claw hooked the side of the interface panel, teasing it roughly.

“Look, brother dear, it would seem we caught our guest's interest! He must be so lonely and desperate that he craves for a substitute. Because that's what you are to him – a substitute,” his voice turned malicious, dripping venom as the hand around Megatron's neck clenched. “He envies us, but there is nothing he can do; I robbed him of all that he had, and I can rob him of this illusion as well. For you are _mine_ , brother; mine to take and mine to break, mine to kill, and oh, I _will_ kill you.” Hot glossa ran up the curved finial. “This will be the most delightful day of my life, and I want to savor it, want it to be special...”

Megatron's engine _revved_ at these words, but when he looked at Optimus, his expression was strangely calm, practically serene – and, to Optimus's surprise, he appeared to be in total control. Maybe he was; with these two Optimus wasn't sure of anything anymore. They were warped, completely and absolutely.

At this moment the other Prime got tired of waiting and simply yanked Megatron's interface panel off. Optimus caught a glimpse of the wet glisten of a port open and ready – before a black palm shoved Megatron's hips closer to the bars, making his back arch a little.

“My favorite plaything,” the mad Prime purred, and Megatron jolted as he was entered in one brutal motion. The hand on his throat loosened its grip, moving to his nape to push him down.

Optimus made another few steps forward out of instinct; his glossa flicked over his parted lips. Megatron gazed at him from his bent position, and his hands came to rest on Optimus's hips – lightly at first, but when the Prime made no attempt to recoil, more firmly.

[Do you want it?] a question came on the comm line. [I know I'm just a substitute, but I'm rather good at this.] Optimus, transfixed and bewitched as he was, could only nod. His interface panel retracted as soon as a warm glossa swept across it, and Megatron didn't hesitate to take Optimus's length in his mouth.

It was wrong. There was so much sadness scorching Optimus's spark, and there was anger. He was angry at them for being together, for still having their Cybertron while he lost so much, while he was lost... Hissing, Optimus thrust his hips, plunging deep into the wet heat, but Megatron simply hummed, offering no resistance. Optimus grasped his helm's elaborate finials, half-blind with grief and rage and turmoil of emotions he couldn't disentangle, and he rode that thunderstorm until there was nothing left but base, primal pleasure.

***

The most unexpected thing in all of this was that Optimus was able to look Megatron in the optics after all that transpired. They went through the next day as usual, but when in the evening they met in private, it was obvious that they needed to talk.

“You two were fragging during the war,” Optimus blurted out, not wishing to sound blaming but sounding so anyway. “You never stopped being lovers.”

“I wouldn't technically call us lovers,” Megatron leaned back on his chair, optics sorrowful. “But we did frag, yes. The first time happened almost on accident. Optimus had me at a disadvantage, wounded and exhausted after a battle with his minions. He pinned me to the ground and was ready to finish me – but then I bucked under him and my thigh collided with his interface array. I saw hesitation on his face and decided to use it, so I rubbed him again, this time intentionally. My brother has always been emotional,” Megatron smiled, but it turned out joyless. “His desire to possess and dominate is as strong as his desire to kill. I distracted him from his original plan: he fragged the living lights out of me, and after he was knocked out by his overload, I escaped. I used this trick some times more, and then... I became addicted. I suppose Starscream is right when he accuses me of being weak,” he sighed. “I'm just lucky he doesn't know the full story, or he'd have all the reasons to accuse me of treason.”

“I... We never went that far. In my world, I mean,” Optimus added awkwardly.

“I figured that much.”

They sat in silence for a while.

“I indulge myself in fantasies that I'm still together with my beloved,” Megatron uttered at last, optics cast downwards. “So I assumed I could indulge you as well.”

 _You are not a substitute_ , Optimus wished to tell his friend, but couldn't.

In the end, all three of them were alone.


End file.
